


No Biting

by joonfired



Series: Favors [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Consent, Don't Judge Me, F/M, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I don't play by Mandalorian culture rules, I'm so sorry Disney+, In Character, Out of Character, POV Mandalorian, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Ship Trash, The Author Regrets Everything, The Mandalorian takes Omera up on that offer, You're perfect and I love you, but I have a dirty mind sometimes, but with, literally if The Mandalorian was HBO, which I totally made X rated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-24 17:06:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21641413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joonfired/pseuds/joonfired
Summary: The Mandalorian takes Omera up on her offer
Relationships: The Mandalorian/Omera (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Favors [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560982
Comments: 28
Kudos: 110





	No Biting

**Author's Note:**

> okay y'all don't judge me  
> but the first time I watched that _moment_ where Omera is all like "let us know if there's _anything_ *wink wink* we can do for you"  
> like I legit even paused and took a pic of that face she made to snicker over it with my friends like "this girl wants some and ain't afraid to say so"
> 
> aHEm
> 
> anyways this is nothing but pure, trashy smut in a situation the characters would NEVER do but . . .  
> (also this is my first time posting this kind of content so *laughs nervously*)

She comes to him in the dark, just as she’d promised. The child is in another hut with her daughter, and it is just the two of them in the shadowed barn.

When the woman had first made her interest known, he hadn’t exactly been paying attention. But when she’d been clearer about her desires and he decided he was due some pleasure after the hell he’d escaped, well, there was nothing left but to make an agreement and set a time.

He is waiting for her in the bed she’d prepared earlier, his helmeted head resting on a vambraced forearm. She kneels by his waist, quiet and collected.

“What do you want?” she asks quietly.

“Your mouth,” he states. “And hands. No biting.”

He tugs off a glove and vambrace, dropping them beside him. He then reaches for her hand and she allows him to settle her palm over the hardening length in his trousers.

“Nothing else?” she offers as her hand begins tantalizing movements.

He ungloves and lifts his other hand to her shoulder, fingers slipping under her collar to the warmth underneath. She gasps softly when he finds and squeezes her smooth, full breast, her hand pushing a little harder against him.

“Careful,” he chides teasingly, his voice raspy from the rolling pressure of her hand.

“I am” —she finds the end of him and pinches gently, causing his hips to tilt up expectantly— “ _ very _ careful.”

The unarmored, animal side of him suddenly wants to tear his helmet away and press himself against her. He wants to breathe her in and taste her; he wants her to touch him everywhere in the same precise way she is touching him now.

But they made an agreement and, despite his failings, he is still Mandalorian. And so this is their way.

He trails his hands up the sloping curve of her neck and threads his fingers through her hair as she unbuckles his belt. He can feel her pulse against his palms, stuttering a little with every brush of his fingertips across her skin.

Behind his visor, he grins at the effect he’s giving her. This is why he was drawn to her. This is a mutual desire, nothing more than two lonely strangers offering what comforts they can to each other.

When she has freed him from the confines of his trousers, cool air touching his length and threatening to fell it, he catches his breath in expectation. He shivers infinitesimally as she drags a fingertip from the base to the tip and back, slow and lazy movements.

Kriff, she’s good.

And then he feels her breath, warm and gusting, a moment before her lips touch him. He bites his tongue at the contact to keep from groaning wantonly like all his instincts are telling him to do.

_ Kriff _ , she’s good.

Her mouth slides hot along him, her tongue flicking in just the right areas at just the right time. He tightens his grip in her long hair, resisting the urge to grab her face and thrust as deep as he can go. Instead, he settles for trying to breathe as evenly as possible.

But it’s difficult when the woman with her mouth on him moves the way she does, and then strokes her knuckles over the lower, tightening part of him. He can’t hide a groan at that and she hums approvingly, the vibrations shared against him.

He can’t stay passive. He wants to touch her.

He slips his hands from her hair and back down her neck, the muscles in her throat and jaw fluttering in time with the movement of her lips and tongue around him. He pushes her tunic off her shoulders, baring her to the dark-piercing gaze of his helmet.

She is smooth and beautiful, her breasts heavy in his palms. He kneads her, brushing his thumbs over her nipples  _ just so _ to make her gasp around him.

He can finish soon, he realizes. She is still slow and methodical, but this is such a rare occurrence for him that his body wants its release sooner than later.

But he also wants to bask in this moment. He doesn’t want her mouth to leave him. And as one hand slips to the dip of her waist, fingers finding the band of her pants, he wants more.

She rises from him, her eyes drowned in lust as she looks in the direction of his visor. A hand keeps stroking him, slick from her tongue. He moves his hips up in time with her strokes, teeth clenched in self-control as he keeps himself to her slow pace.

Her hand tightens around him, her strokes quickening. He gasps and surges up, his control slipping away.

“Better?” she asks slyly, rolling her palm over the tip of him.

He strangles a cry in his throat, a choked moan filtering from the helmet instead.

“Finish me,” he asks. He begs. He demands. “Please.”

She captures him in her mouth again. The gentleness is still there, but it is harder. Faster. Wonderful.

Concerned of bruises, his hands start to leave her for the bedding underneath, but she presses them back to her chest. He slips one to the back of her neck and into her hair, while the other stays for her breasts.

He cannot get enough of her.

She is taking him deeper now, a hand stroking the remaining length she cannot fit into her mouth. He pulses and grows, his breath coming in ragged chunks of sound. He closes his eyes and surrenders to the moment, letting the pleasure drown him.

He comes messy and unhinged, his fingers digging into the flesh of her shoulders. She moves with him as he empties against her tongue, groaning quietly with every desperate, shallow thrust.

When he is smaller and tucked back inside his trousers, he is not sure what she does with what he left in her mouth. She moves to rise, but he reaches for her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles.

“I . . . thank you,” he says, suddenly awkward but still confident in the leftover pleasure he basks in. Her breath stutters when he trails his hand up her arm and across her breasts. “Perhaps another night I could return the favor?”

He thought he would be done after tonight, his body sated until some far date in the future. But she has caught his interest more than he expected, and he wonders what she would sound like under his hands.

“Whatever you need,” she replied. “Just let me know.”

She got to her feet then, adjusting her tunic and licking her lips.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.

He is a little sleepy now, spent and satisfied. And once she is gone, he falls into the deep sleep of a well-pleased man.

**Author's Note:**

> the best sex ed I've ever had is this site . . . true story
> 
> let me know if y'all want me to sleep deprive myself again in the name of the Mandalorian returning Omera's favor


End file.
